PochoYProud: Rise of the Pocho Nation

Love at first site can be real, and Stormy!

2010-09-20T21:57:00.009-05:00

Love at first sight is not a myth, it happens. It's happened to me three times! And, I'm talking about loving relationships that have lasted big time. Believe it or not, this conversation began with a comment about how much it rains in Houston.

Once started, however, my claim of three intense, and instant, loves required explanation. In reverse order... the third was at the moment of my daughter's birth. Maybe I'm cheating a little here because, honestly, I loved that kid the day the stick changed colors. But seeing her for the first time, being held upside down she seemed to respond to my voice, turned and opened her eyes. (I know that's not su

pposed to happen at that age - hour, but it did.) She was so beautiful and perfect and mine - ours. Lost the last remaining chunk of my heart right there and then. Love at first sight. So, a big piece of my heart now resides in the dorms of UTSA in San Antonio. Daddy's baby no matter the aged or educational level. (Deep sigh!)

Moving on... the other huge piece of my heart is now in Austin (until the @#$% house sells!). Feb. 10, 1985. That was the day I met my wife. She was almost perfect. Almost. Beautiful. Smart. Funny (meaning she laughed at my jokes). A journalist. A great listener. Even better cook. She lacked only one thing in my opinion... me. So, I asked her to marry me on the first date and of course, she said yes. Duh! Her lack of judgement in men aside, she was, and remains, the love of my life. However, she was my second love-at-fir

st-sight.

The first time I lost a piece of my heart, I must admit it was intense, it was stormy, as scary as it was exciting. And, I was only five years old. Her name was Buelah. She was beautiful in her own way. Powerful. Deadly. She had one huge eye. She hit me at approximately 136 miles an hour, technically a category 3. Buelah was the first hurricane I remember experiencing. With the memory of a five-year-old, I remember that it cut a direct swath across the Rio Grande Valley, coming up from South Padre across Alamo, Pharr, McAllen then my house in Edinburg. When the first wave of storms hit, shrieking winds seemed to go on for hours. Darkness and rain, flying debris knocking for desperate entry on every window, every door. And then, suddenly, silence. And sunshine.

In 1967, my Mom was 19, Dad 21. Kids raising kids. Of course we went outside, leaving the safety of the home to play in the eye of the storm - literally. All around us, the round walls of the storm formed a barrier to the rest of the world. You could see the wind and the rain, see the lightning crawl across the horizon and hear the booming thunder - all contained within those dark, threatening walls. It was the coolest thing I'd ever seen. Thus, my first love-at-first-site, the last shard of my heart, albeit the first to go, eternally rides the winds of the storms.

Rain and storm, thunder and lightning have been harbingers of good throughout my life. A lightning strike signaled the time had come to ask for my wife's hand on that first fateful date. It rained the day our daughter was born, the day we bought our first house and some of the favorite times I've ever had were doing the Moose dance with my girls in the warm Texas rain. Living in Houston, too often separated from wife and daughter, I'm am often reminded of the power of the rain and the wind, and am comforted by the memories and emotions that rise with the intensity of the storms that regularly roll across the Bayou City. Really takes me back.

What's With All The Drama?

2010-02-14T13:59:00.005-06:00

Have you ever been in a situation where you're having a typical family discussion and the cops show up because the neighbors called and reported that, "They're gonna kill each other!"? Or maybe people look at you weird at a fancy restaurant or the movies... or maybe church? Happens all the time. Why is that?

Everyone "knows" Latinos are passionate people (PochoNation-ales are the most passionate, because we get to be that way in Spanish AND English. Now, you know what being passionate means and it's not all about being sexy (but that part IS true). We're also opinionated. (Hey, I've got a right to my opinion dammit.) We're stubborn (Some might say que somos tercos, but I beg to differ.) We're intense. (Loud. That's why the cops come.) And, we won't be bested. (No queremos que nadie nos gana.) We believe we know things We believe we're right about those things. And, we're gonna make sure YOU know we know and we're right! No que no? Listen to the other side of the story. Mira! There's my side and there's your side... and your side is the side I gave you (which BTW is my side). Man, that last part really takes me home, just saying.

I've seen this in personal relationships, family relationships, even in professional relationships (Although I do work in an agency full of Latinos.) Sure, it scares some folks... non-Hispanic, the very young, the very old, librarians (occasionally clients). But nobody needs to be scared. It doesn't mean we're angry. That doesn't mean it's personal. It doesn't mean we're gonna fight. And, it certainly doesn't mean that we're NOT gonna lock arms and go have a beer (or six) right after this is over.

It's a STYLE. Is it cultural? Maybe, maybe not. I mean, it's not exclusive to Latinos, Italians wave their arms in ADDITION to being this way. OK, so maybe it is cultural. Whatever. Point is, asi somos. That's just the way we are and actually, I think it's good for us to be that way. Think of it as if we're those yuppies who pay hundreds of dollars an hour for scream therapy, but we get ours free. And our therapists are our family and friends. It keeps our blood hot and healthy. Either way, and for whatever reason, we like it. Cultural insight? Stereotype? Maybe both, but if you want to experience this "cultural phenomena" just go to any Latino family reunion (like Christmas, New Year's, Easter, World Cup Final, Superbowl, church picnic, BBQ or birthday party in the park, dinnertime, whatever... and you'll see. I'm right. I know it!

Pocho Next Gens: Evolving Empowerment

2009-10-17T11:55:00.013-05:00

Growing up Pocho was a disadvantage. At least that's how I saw it. Not quite fitting in, not truly accepted by either non-Hispanics or "real Mexicans", i.e. immigrants. That's how I felt it. And, I've learned that I wasn't alone. Many US-born LatinoBoomers (and/or their children) felt that way. When cultural "conflicts" occurred, you just felt embarrassed and removed yourself from the scene. Problem solved, no? Not really. We segregated ourselves.

I've written about this before but I'm not just rehashing old ideas. Now that my daughter's in a public university, I'm seeing familiar themes, but with a very interesting (and uplifting) twist. Brought up in a slightly Spanglish, but definitely Hispanic home, she's was also raised a good Catholic school girl, her peers were fairly conservative, culturally homogeneous. (Lotta white bread.) Now among students of much greater diversity, she's confronted with a different mix of all kind of folk: White, Black, Asian, etc... and tons more raza. This last part makes sense because the University is in San Antonio and pulls a lot of commuter students from throughout Central Texas. The San Anto area is majority Hispanic. Not quite the density of the Valley (forever my home), but still.. S.A. = ese!

Anyway, back to the point: wide variety of Latino(a). In the stories that she's told me, and in my own observations of the way these kids interact, I've learned many of the same dynamics exist between Hispanics of varying backgrounds. In fact, she admitted that among her non-Hispanic White friends she feels very Hispanic, but among some (but not all) of her Hispanic friends, she feels more "White". Been there done that baby. "I feel your pain," I say in comfort and to show I understand. But, really, I don't understand. She doesn't need comforting.

Instead of dissing each other and separating, they accept, support and embrace. They're curious. They discuss. They share. The Hispanic kids that are more acculturated, or "Americanized", help those that are from Latin America or less acculturated to navigate the system here. And, they reciprocate by describing how some of the traditional customs are celebrated "back home". Authentic style. (And maybe correcting a Spanish word or two.) That's a little simplistic because there's more complex interaction, but you get the point. For them, it's all good.

Many of us grew up with prejudice and a bad habit of people, in general, building fences wherever differences were perceived. White vs. Black. Rich vs.

Poor. North of the tracks vs. South. Light skinned Hispanic vs. dark. We've seen a cultural evolution. We've seen the change and we're empowered by it. But we remember and I think it colors your POV on a lot of things.

This PochoNation generation doesn't carry the same baggage. They hear our stories and I think they appreciate where we've been. And, they still care about their culture, proud to be Hispanic. They are neither emasculated nor diminished by their differences. They are empowered. They have more options. They can do more because they are more. Encouraging, no?. Si!

Reality Check: Joy And Sorrow Are Often Inseparable

2009-08-16T10:37:00.011-05:00

Another lesson. Everyday seems to bring more learning. Deeper understanding. Those 'aha!' moments, full of insight, understanding. Sometimes they are shining lights of illumination and, on rare special occasions, inspiration. Yes! Today's lesson is about the reality that life is full of paradoxes (is that a word?) and contradictions. Sometimes the things that bring you great joy also harbor melancholy, sadness. Often, these occur at multiple levels.

This week our beautiful, talented, wise-beyond-her-years, daughter leaves for university. As with all parents, this has been a lifelong dream for us... for the entire family. My Mom, my Dad, Grandma, Grandpa, aunts, uncles... the list goes on. (We are Hispanic after all - everyone's related.) And, as the oldest grandchilden, first-born of all the cousins there is a special anticipation in seeing the first launch into the next phase of her life. So, are we all beaming with pride? Yes! Are we exicted for her? Of course. But while my heart is so swollen with pride that it's bigger than the sun, it's also spreading with tiny, cracks of sadness that are rapidly expanding as the "moving day" approaches. We will miss her sooo much.

For 18 1/2 years we've looked forward to this day. She's fullfilled all our expectations and shattered them. I know I'm her dad, but there has been no more perfect child (although for the record, until the age of 5, I was pretty damned good!). And now, this week feels like the Apocalypse, the last days of the Mayan calendar, Nostradamus probably wrote about this in one of the quatrains! As she follows her own heart, her own dreams, her own path... she moves a step away from ours. It's a little step, a baby step. But it feels like a step across the Grand Canyon, a Neil Armstrong's "one small step for man" kinda monumental, BIG step to me.

So, my lesson (re-learned and re-learned) is that life is a beautiful chaos (I stole this line but it's nice right?), a rollercoaster ride of emotions where great joy and deep sorrow blend and blossom. I've also learned (realized, once again) what my own parents must have gone through and likely, each and every time another of us went off. I recognize how precious those infrequent calls I made home must have been to them (and probably still are today). And how even as I succeeded (or didn't) along my path they were supportive of my choices even as they took me further and further away from them. But, I also know that the distance was physical not emotional. Even as our daughter moves to another city to begin a new chapter in her life, she'll never be one micro-meter (is THAT a term?) away from our hearts.

Thanks Mom. Thanks Dad. Bee... follow your heart and know we're always here.

Memorial Day: A Cold One's Awaiting!

2009-05-25T12:50:00.009-05:00

Today we pause to reflect. To remember. To give thanks. To celebrate. On Memorial Day we honor the lives lost, the wounds suffered, the proud service of those in the military. It's important to take a time out of our day-to-day to think about what it all means.

What does it mean to build an army? What does it mean to go to war? What does it mean to put your cross hairs on the body of a stranger and pull a trigger, or push a button or flick a switch... and have that person cease to exist? And, what does it mean to have that happen to someone you love? What does it mean for an individual to volunteer for that possibility? To raise their hand and say, "Me! Choose me. I'll go. I'll train. I'll wear the colors. I'll eat the sand. I'll hump the hills. I'll fight. I'll take a chance. Choose ME!" Why would somebody do that? Why would ANYBODY do that?

Who's crazy enough to leave family and friends, a perfectly safe (mostly safe) place, in a really great (well mostly great) country and put themselves in harm's way? Who? And for what? So we can sit here and live our lives in peace and comfort? So we can toss some fajitas on the grill? Let the kids run through the sprinkler, throw back a few cold ones, watch the Astros destroy Cincinnati (hopefully) and bitch about work? Is that it? Is that what this is all about? This is freedom? Actually... Yes!

It's really just the tip of the iceberg, but yes. There's that and democracy. Being able to vote in free elections is kinda cool. Not having to wear a shroud over your head when you go out is nice. Choosing your profession, being able to send your kids to school, marrying the woman you love (or whichever person you love but we're working on that one), worshiping the god of your choice (or not). All of those are pretty important reasons too.

Anyway, as I'm taking in the sun, popping the top and thinking about Memorial Day and whether or not I should buy that loveseat that's on sale, I thought I'd share what's been on my mind all day and say THANKS! It doesn't matter if you're White or Black, Latino, Hispanic, Mexican, Pocho, whatever. You're all heroes. So thanks to all those crazy sons of bitches (and daughters too) that made that crazy brave choice. Just be sure you bring it on home 'cause your cold one's waiting!

The Revelations of Self-Portraits

2009-05-20T17:16:00.014-05:00

I try to be brave. I believe I have a story to tell. I hope that when I write, I share lessons and emotions and laughter people can both identify with and maybe even benefit. To tell your story is to expose yourself, to say to the world, "here I am and this is me!" Then you wait and see what the world sends back. Some kind of response. A laugh. An "Orale!". Or a "You're wrong dude and BTW, you suck." Either way, to tell your story is taking a chance. Like I said, I try to be brave and true to my self and to my personal story. In my writing, I take small chances all the time. But cultural revelations may take less fortitude than others.

Some people do more than "try" to be brave, take more than baby steps. They take great leaps of faith; and, while the results can be disastrous and soul wrenching, they can also be beautiful and healing. Even more than brave, they can be inspiring. This is the story of one such person. A very special person: Karrie Lee. Read her story in The Portrait Assignment. Experience her life, her art and her pain. Revel in her strength and her perseverance. I'm glad to call her my friend. I'm sure you'll benefit from her story, her bravery. And, there are more enlightening portraits to view and experience. Witness for yourself.

In English or Spanish, Today is for Mamá!

2009-05-10T21:56:00.007-05:00

In the US, we celebrate Mother's Day on the 2nd Sunday of May. In Mexico, and in many other Latin American countries, Mother's Day is always the 10th of May. If you are a florist, sell chocolate candy or work for a phone company, this is your BIG day. Being the good bicultural Pocho that I am, I try to commemorate both occasions and I'm usually pretty lucky to remember at least one. The good thing is that if I forget, I usually have another shot. Double up on the flowers and chocolates.

A lot of times, we focus on the things that divide us - Hispanics vs. Non-Hispanics, Mexicans vs. Cubans vs. Puerto Ricans, Democrats vs. Republicans, Dogs vs. Cats... whatever. On this, a rare occasion when U.S. Mother's Day and Mexican Mother's Day occurs on the same day, when phones are ringing and new bottles of perfume are spaying fresh scents of rose pedals and soft power across both sides of the Rio Grande, let me wish ALL Moms everywhere, especially my wife and my own Mom, a very Happy Mother's Day. Let us all celebrate one more thing we all share... we all came from Moms. Felicidades!

Does Simon Cowell LOVE Mexican Music???

2009-05-10T10:53:00.010-05:00

Talk about cross-over artists! A friend sent this to me and I just could belive my ears (the eyes were a little doubtful too). I never thought I'd see Simon Cowell get so emotional over a Mexican song. Nor, a crowd from across the pond go crazy like that. Susan Boyle is not only a British sensation, she's the next Latina-wannabe-super-estrella. Truly amazing! Checkalo out for yourself y lo verás. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sU01Nzu5Kak

Pocho Art Walks the Talk

2009-05-09T17:13:00.009-05:00

One of the cool things about being PochoYProud today is that I know I'm not alone. This PochoNation is not made of just one schizophrenic loco living in Austin, Texas. And, every day I meet and hear from more and more people who believe.

Not too long ago I got a very interesting e-mail from a fellow PochoNational living the life in Califa. Hector "Ache" Casillas was born in South Central L.A. to Mexican parents and grew up in the San Gabriel Valley. He told me of his own experiences growing up bilingual/bicultural and not always feeling like he fit in with either culture. Many of his stories paralleled mine and, I'm sure, that of many others of us Pochos out there. Through his "walking art", Ache expresses his POV on his own version of our Pocho culture. His site, http://www.pochowear.com/ showcases his artistic designs via illustrations and on t-shirts for Pochos and Pochas. I'm no art critic, but I think his stuff is pretty cool and definitely makes a statement that Pocho is IN!.

Ache gave my own sense of cultural expression a boost when he wrote me to support my blog saying, "You write about what I paint. Keep it up!" I appreciate the support and vow to continue this blog, now con mas ganas!

Not all Eagles Fly the Same

2009-05-05T17:14:00.003-05:00

Random thought while waiting in the airport on Cinco de Mayo. Eagles. They're not all the same. Think about the American Bald Eagle, seen on US gold coins, the silver dollar, the half dollar, the quarter and of course on the Great Seal of the United States of America. Majestic. Proud. Stately. It soars, surveying all from sea to shining sea, talons poised to strike. What power it weilds, what authority it commands. In contrast, consider the Mexican version. An eagle born of Aztec legend, perched on a cactus (nopal) and devouring a serpent. Mexico City, supposedly, was born at the site this symbol was first seen. This eagle is definitely different. Scrappy. Dusty. Hot. Pissed. (probably) Two countries separated by a common symbol. A lot like our people. The thing is, we're all just doing our best to fly. Funny how the winds change when you cross the Rio Grande! Happy Cinco y'all.

El Árbol de la Familia: Mom et al.

2009-05-03T09:50:00.011-05:00

My Mom, Yvonne Chapa, is the current matriarch of our family. She’s the latest leader in a long line of strong-willed, independent-minded, beautifully-loving, nurturing, ultra-sacrificing women that form the roots, trunk and branches of our family tree. Men are simply the leaves. We collect rain, energy from the sun and bring it on home. But, if not for the women who connect us all, we’d dry up and blow away with the wind. OK, a little dramatic and we guys do more than just “leave”, but it’s mostly true. The guys move away and start other branches. My uncles all left to other cities. My brother and I did the same. It’s not about us, our “system” is about the women.

I have vague memories of my great grandmother - Ignacia Flores. Mostly stories that have come from other family members. She had 13 children and, after the last was born, she pretty much raised them on her own. According to legend, my great grandfather Esteban died from wounds sustained in a battle during the Mexican revolution. They had a small farm in Cuevitas, a little town right along this side of the Rio Grande. When Esteban died, the boys (there were many) took over the farm: raising corn, chickens, hogs, etc. Ignacia stared a small neighborhood store. Strong stock, hard-working, non-apologetic, a real fighter, she did what had to be done during difficult times.

My Grandma Lilly, was 10^th of the thirteen. She told me stories of dancing through fields as a girl, to and from school, chasing butterflies and picking flowers along the way. Unaware of her poverty and hard life, she was a child in awe of nature. To the day she died at 91, I could see the wonder and joy for life in her eyes. Even after raising six kids of her own, on her own. My grandfather Tony left when the youngest was close to five (maybe six?). Although I asked her many times, she never told me exactly why he left or said a single negative thing about him, just that, “he decided to go his way and I went mine”. Her way was to take two, sometimes three jobs at a time. Again, she did what she had to do and never complained. Her firm jaw was always set on moving forward.

Mom took up the mantle from Grandma Lilly. She is the latest in the line and her training started early. She became the “mom” of sorts when Grandpa Tony left and Grandma Lilly had to work. She became a mom, in truth, at the age of 14 when I was born. Her summer vacation after 8^th grade year was giving birth to me. (I’d rather go to Cabo.) As her eldest, I’ve seen her struggles, her perseverance, her quiet (OK, sometimes not THAT quiet) family leadership blossom and grow. Mom is a survivor of the reality for which there is no show: She overcame the infamy of unwed pregnancy, of being ostracized by her peers (but not for long), of the tragic death of a too-young, child, of a young love that distanced as it matured and much, much more than cannot be told here.

More than simply survive, Mom thrived! She graduated from high school enduring “homebound” studies. She finished college while serving as a teacher’s aide. While teaching she received a Master’s in Education and now serves as a curriculum director for our hometown school district. Along the way, she made sure her own kids were educated. She remarried to a good man and helped raise three step-children in a way that we ALL now see each other as brothers and sisters. We all have college degrees, some with Master’s and my “little” brother is a doctor. (I’m in advertising so she obviously has one slightly bad apple, but still – not too shabby.) Mom inspires us. She set the bar high and EXPECTS us to raise it up another notch (or two).

Life can be hard. Times get tough. But, when you are rooted in the love of women like those in our family, when you know that if you fall there will be a soft net on which you will land, it’s easy to reaching skyward. I have two sisters, a sister-in-law and a hell of a wife that are all strong and capable of holding their own. It’s uncertain who will receive the torch next. And, even writing about this I’m sure will create controversy. But, I’m confident the exchange will not take place for many years to come. And, one way or another, the tree will continue to grow.

Barack Obama: The Ultimate Pocho

2009-05-03T09:38:00.013-05:00

Check it out... he's half and half, bridging cultures, speaks bad Spanish, hangs out with both minorities and White people (I know, White doesn't mean NOT Hispanic, but that's a different topic) and he gets crap from both sides for not being "pure" one way or the other. That's a Pocho to me. AND on top of all that, he's extremely popular and his people (us) are finding renewed hope and empowerment.

History was made last November! A Pocho (of sorts) was elected President of the United States of America! Damn Yo! To quote la guera Paris Hilton (Why not, McCain quoted her) “That’s Hot! Front page news has the big story being that “a Black man is now President”. Technically, that’s true, but it’s just part of the story. Literally and figuratively. Obama is just as White as he is Black. I think it’s funny (interesting, not ha ha) that whenever there’s a mix of colors (or cultures) you have to pick one over the other. It usually comes down to the way you look or maybe your last name. Or maybe whatever you perceive to be to your best advantage. And, sometimes that can change depending on who you’re with. Come on, we’ve all experienced it or at least seen it.

I think the big news is that someone of recognizably mixed race, ethnicity or culture is now in the Casa Blanca. (The “recognizably” part is significant.) Someone who can truly represent what our nation is becoming more and more every day. Blended! I like to talk about our Hispanic culture being a beautiful mezcla (mix), and it is; but, we’re just the tip of the American iceberg. And, we the people finally have a leader with which we can identify.

I liked John McCain (like – really ‘cause he’s not dead yet). As a former Marine I respect his service to our nation and an obvious lifetime of commitment to public service. I think Sarah Palin is interesting too (here I DO mean the ha ha interesting type). They probably would have done a fine job – not much change, but fine, OK, same old same old, tu sabes. But, I think it’s been a long time since we had a leader that made us feel different about ourselves. Someone who makes us feel like we can do more today, with him/her in charge, than we did yesterday with Jr. Bush and Halliburton. Not everybody feels this way I’m sure, but at least 52% of the record 125 million people that voted believe it’s a new day in the U.S.A. (sounds like a song, no?)

I’ve always been proud of our country. I’ve always believed in, and appreciated, what our nation stands for: the rights and freedoms that we fight for, the progress that we’ve, the opportunity we offer (though sometimes more freely than others), the potential that we still have and how united, we will persevere. But today, my belief is just a little stronger, my heart a little bigger and my faith in the future of our nation, for my daughter and for all our blended generations yet to come is just a little brighter. Que Viva Obama! Y, Que Viva our beautiful Pocho Nation!!!

Hispanic Insights: Myth or Reality

2009-05-03T09:20:00.007-05:00

Clients often ask, "What makes that spot Hispanic?" Not all of them and not all the time. What they're looking for is generally some stereotype that reassures them that their message will be identifiable and relevant to the Hispanic target: jalapeños, piñatas and salsa (either the dancing or the music kind will do), kids playing soccer, etc. Things that are obviously Hispanic. They often mistake those stereotypes for Hispanic "insights".

Most of the time, it's not even our client's fault. (I don't want to alienate anyone.) They've been trained to expect that these typically-Hispanic elements will be in the ad. And, many times we've trained them that way. (I mean our industry, not me specifically but really we're all guilty.) For years, many Hispanic marketers have perpetuated the need for stereotyping. We've told advertisers to trust us because we're Hispanic and we "know". And, it's still happening today. People within the industry are still part of the problem.

We've used stereotypes to sell, not to Hispanic customers, but to generally non-Hispanic brand managers. They may not understand the market, but they know a good stereotype when they see one. They just think it's an insight.

Insights are important. But, insights are simply facts: facts that make a difference, facts that help determine direction, facts that inspire the creative. Insights can be about the consumer, the brand, the category or product, or even about the people or things that influence consumer behavior. Every target group has some relevant fact that we can mine relative to these topics that affects what we do in terms of advertising and marketing. And yes, we do find insights that relate to our Hispanic targets, but they're not necessarily specific to the culture.

We have to move beyond "Hispanic insight" stereotypes to "Human insights". We need to stop thinking of the Hispanic market as a segment by itself, one big chocolate flavored box to check off. We need to start thinking more about Hispanic market segmentation and focusing on groups WITHIN the market. Our Hennessy target is very different attitudinally, behaviorally and socio-economically than our Bud-Light target. And, both are really different from our Chef Boyardee target. Do you think there's one Hispanic insight, related to music or food or family or passion or aspiration (classic stereotype fodder) that covers them all? Our Hispanic Hennessy guy has much more in common with the General Market or Af-Am Hennessy drinker than he does to a Chef mom. Many times we're dealing with a similar insight and nuance of the same message. What's different is the context in which the message, the brand story, is told.

Would you put American flags, hot dogs and apple pie in a General Market spot, just because we're in the good ol' U.S.of A.? Does every execution developed regionally have to reflect that specific region? Do Chevy and Dodge and Ford have to put cowboys with 10-gallon hats and dusty boots in every "Texas Tough" commercial? (Well, maybe yes in that case.) Still the point is, if you wouldn't put an American flag in every General Market ad just because we're in the U.S., why do you think you need red, white and green in every ad targeting Hispanics? It's not the right thing to do for the brand. It's disrespectful to our consumer audience. And, it's time to move on.

Hispanic vs. Latino: What’s in a Name

2009-05-03T06:44:00.006-05:00

I’m old enough to remember (just barely) that the term Hispanic was first used as a Census category in 1970. Before that we were mostly “Spanish” or “Latins”. If you were a little “hip” (yes, that was the term back then) you might call yourself Latino. If you were more on the radical side (a lot of people were in the 70s, not just us) then you might have been “Chicano”. (For those of you born after 1980, there was a big Chicano Power movement in the 60s and 70s and we had Brown Beret’s lined up to protest educational inequality and it was all very exciting and scary and important. You should read about it, but not here. I digress.).

I remember asking my grandfather about what we were, listing the options. He got very upset that I didn't know, saying, “Mijo, my parents were from Matehuala. They’re Mexicanos. I was born here in Texas, in America. So I’m Mexican-American and you’re Mexican-American. We’re not His-panic, or Her-panic or anybody’s panic. Grandpa Ramón was passionate, I’ll say that. The point is, for as long as I remember we've been called a lot of things. (And I’m not even mentioning the negative labels.)

Today, the two labels heard most often are Hispanic and Latino. Technically there is a difference in that Latinos are people from countries IN Latin America, which doesn't include Europe so Spaniards are out. And, Hispanics are people from countries where Spanish is the primary language so Brazilians are out. Recent studies have shown that both terms are now equally accepted among most with an opinion; and, a majority of the Gen Ñs are just fine with being just “American”, even though they’re still proud of their culture and heritage. For them, it’s not about labels.

So, for the most part I don’t think people really care much anymore whether you use Hispanic or Latino, unless you’re from Spain or Brazil or maybe an academic. What’s important is that whichever you use, you are consistent, especially within a business situation. (I’m not, but I’m trying to make a point.) Whatever you choose, stick with it. It’s not what you say that really matters. It’s what you do that counts.

¿Que Pasa? Why the Blog? Why Pocho???

2009-05-02T14:44:00.002-05:00

What's a Pocho? Pocho is a term used for generations to negatively describe people of Mexican ancestry born in the U.S. (It even says so on Wikipedia!) Pocho is a slur accusing us of becoming gringos, half-breeds, coconuts that have lost their culture. Pochos are not really Mexican to those born, educated and affluent in Mexico. (Focus on affluent.) Until recently, neither were we fully embraced by the U.S. Anglo culture. (Not to sound too radically “Chicano”, that’s how it was when I was a kid.) Pochos are people caught between two cultures. At least we used to be.

The definition of Pocho has a lot to do with language preference. We’re Hispanic (Yes, I used Hispanic and Latino interchangeably but that’s a different topic altogether. Wait for it.), but our language usage is not black or white, Spanish OR English. We use both to different degrees, in different ways, and often even in the same sentence. Pochos have gained notoriety for saying things like, “Hold on Lupe, voy ir a parkiar la troka”. Or sometimes, “Listen Fred, tu eres un menso.” Mixing Spanish and English in one breath, using words, like parkiar and troka which aren’t in any dictionary. People on both sides of the border are offended by the "bastardization" of both languages. But, on the border, it works.

I'm not saying that poor language skills are what defines Pochos. It's just an example (maybe a bad one) of the cultural evolution that is taking place. Being Pocho is about blending and not just accepting the result, but celebrating it. It's inevitable and it should be a good thing.

Why Proud? Because we should be! And, because our time has come. Today it is cool to be Latino. And, thanks to the miracle of retro-acculturation, even those of us that have been in the U.S. since before the U.S. came to US (Yes, we DO remember the Alamo.), we can now happily reclaim our Hispanicity. Today, of the 45-plus million Hispanics in the U.S. (that can be counted), about 60% were born in the U.S. Some are still more comfortable with Spanish, others speak only English; and, the vast majority speak some of both. Hispanics, and Hispanic marketing efforts, have been largely defined by language preference. But, being Hispanic isn't about language, it's about culture and THAT is what unites us.

I'm Pocho Y Proud. I was born here and grew up speaking mostly English (except to my grandparents and other elders - another article.). I felt caught, trapped, between two cultures that had no place for me. I made it through the "brown is down" days. And, I'm still proud of who I am. Even more importantly, I believe there are millions of other Pochos like me out there.

Regardless of our language preference, we’re proud to celebrate the 4^th of July AND the 16 de Septiembre. (I would have added Cinco de Mayo but EVERYBODY celebrates that except in Mexico). We call our Mom for Mother’s Day on both May 10^th AND the 2nd Sunday in May. We feast at Thanksgiving AND pray at Christmas (or sometimes Hanukkah). We're proud because are not the divide between two worlds, we are the bridge! We don’t HAVE to choose one culture versus another. We can have BOTH. We CAN be both American and Mexican or Puerto Rican or Cuban or Columbian or Guatemalan or WHATEVER. In the 2010 Census, we're going to check all kinds of boxes. And, THAT's what will define us.

Why Pochos are important for the future. Today’s Pocho is more than just the new Cajun. Pocho is today’s Latino reality. Pocho is the future. We're a big piece of the market. In a time of recession, we're a HUGE piece of the potential for growth. The Pocho market represents opportunity. MY concept of the new Pocho-nality is confident, positive, the best combination of both cultures, an upwardly-mobile mover that fits in everywhere! It's who we are. And, by the way, Hispanics are not the only ones affected by this evolution. Just the fact that anyone in Minnesota can accurately pronounce Chipotle also blows my mind. (Again, another future article.)